


The Joy Of Tactics

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-13
Updated: 2006-03-13
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8088946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Reed hasn't got a clue. (0/11/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Malcolm was eating while reading through some technical reports, unaware that he was being closely observed from the other side of the mess. A group of male and female crewmen were scrutinising him.

"It's the way he's so absorbed in anything."

"Mnn. So focused."

"Aahh. See that little brow furrow? Soo darn cute."

"And he's single..."

There was a pause. "Dave...have you not heard the stories?"

"Stories? What stories?"

"Like, when he was at the academy, he asked out this girl, she stood him up. And then she was never seen again."

The rest of the table looked impressed, bar one. "Umm. I knew her. She left because her sister died and she was needed back home."

"Yes, but who killed her sister?"

"You are implying that our tactical officer would kill someone's sister because they stood him up?"

The more impressionable ones were looking over to Malcolm with some fear.

"He seems just the type."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but her sister died in a skiing accident in Sweden. Nothing to do with him."

"That's what he wants you to think."

Another of the crewmen chimed in. "Yeah. And I heard that at the academy he once got so into a training exercise that he kicked someone's pancreas out through their nose."

Some of the more biologically aware crewmen looked doubtful. "Pancreas. Out through the nose."

"Yeah. It's like...he's dangerous. Makes him even cuter."

Malcolm looked up, staring into space, thinking. The crewmen all jumped slightly.

"D'you think there's anyone in the crew who doesn't fancy him?"

"Well, there's some people don't like guys."

"True. But Ensign Davis reckons that he would never go with a man, but even he says he'd make an exception."

Malcolm remained totally unaware that the rest of the crew were putting him down as a homicidal maniac. A very attractive maniac, but a maniac just the same.

Trip and Travis entered the mess. They both saw Malcolm sitting alone and glanced at each other. They had discovered quite early on in the voyage that they were both after the same man, and after both totally failing in their goal they had started a bet—that whoever bedded Malcolm first owed the other a large amount of alcohol and dating tips. Their initial lack of success had led them to conclude that he was straight. However, the total lack of success by the female members of the crew had led to Trip's pet theory that Malcolm's weapon obsession was the result of an accident involving castration. When Travis pointed out that this would mean that Malcolm's voice should be high, Trip merely put this down to Malcolm taking hormones. They had eventually decided to settle the matter by going to the doctor, who initially refused to discuss the matter, but was cajoled into admitting that Malcolm was, indeed, 'all there'. Trip was still unconvinced.

They wandered over to the table of the man, who, if we were to take the overall view of the mess hall was a homicidal maniac eunuch with jealousy issues.

"Mind if we sit down?"

"Mmm? Oh, no, please do."

"How's it goin'?"

"Fine. Oh, could you check some power coupling loads for me?"

Trip thought of far too many other distracting images of 'power couplings' and had to pull himself back to reality. "Sure."

Travis tried to rescue the conversation while Trip composed himself. "You got something interesting lined up there?"

"Yes, actually. An idea of boosting the efficiency of the weapons system. I think you both should look at it." He leant over the table. "You see if you just take the shaft of the power coupling a little further in...are you both all right?"

The other two officers had gone an odd colour and appeared to be having a little trouble breathing.

"Fine." Travis managed to squeak.

"You don't think that it will work then?"

"We could always have a go."

"Do you think there might be a power overload?"

"Power overload? Oh, yes, um, we'd have to keep a close watch on it."

"OK. I'll try and get the figures done and then we can test it. Anyway, must be going."

Malcolm sighed as he left the mess. He really wished that he'd never mentioned his idea. It was obvious from their reaction that the others were overworked and needed a rest, not someone taking up their time with harebrained schemes.

* * *

"Come in."

"Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour sir, but you did say that you wanted the weapons efficiency readings ASAP."

Porthos, the moment he had smelled who had entered the room, leapt up. He made a beeline for Malcolm's left leg, jumped on and started humping it like there was no tomorrow. Malcolm, in a practised movement, gently but firmly dislodged Porthos with his other foot.

"Thank you, Malcolm. Down Porthos. Sorry to keep asking you like this..."

"Not at all sir. If you'll not be needing me for anything else I think I'll just turn in."

"Yes, of course. Good night."

"'Night sir"

Porthos looked accusingly at the captain.

"Hey, it's all right for you. You can get your cheap little thrills off him any time you want. Some of us have it a little more difficult."

Porthos kept staring.

"OK, so asking him repeatedly to my quarters late at night is underhand, but have you seen him when he yawns? That little stifled yawn thing is just...so...him. And there's no way I could even try my luck with him. He'd see it as a captain's order and I couldn't live with myself for doing that."

Porthos hunkered down in his doggy bed. There didn't seem much chance of Malcolm returning so he might as well just go to sleep.

"Although speaking of captain's orders I could just order him to turn up to work naked. Can't see many of the crew objecting to that one. But he would probably report me to Starfleet Command. Why did I pick him as part of my crew? I knew this would happen, and now we're this far out I can't just send him home. Oh boy."

* * *

Hoshi steeled herself. She was actually going to do it. She was going to ask Malcolm out. On a date. Nothing too heavy, a little getting to know you sort of thing, but a date nonetheless. There he was, alone, checking out the armoury locker. She could see him, and was trying to get up the courage to...

"Hoshi? Is there something you want?"

Damn! Of course, in common with all tactical officers and mothers he did indeed have eyes in the back of his head.

"Ummm, I ummmm, wanted to talk to you."

Malcolm looked up. "Yes?"

Hoshi decided to go for the rhetorical approach. "If someone wanted to ask someone else out..."

"I think that there are far better authorities on dating in the crew than me."

"Ummm. I mean,do you...do you find me attractive?"

"You are a very attractive young woman. Why, has someone been saying otherwise?"

Ah. That would rather suggest that Malcolm was not interested.

"Well, no, it's just, before asking someone out you want to find out if they'd be interested." That was about as blatant Hoshi dared to get.

"I'm sure that whoever this mysterious someone who you've been so reluctant to name is, they would be interested."

"Umm. OK. Thanks." Hoshi wandered off. Well, at least she'd not blown her chances with any witnesses present.

* * *

Malcolm made his way back to his quarters. He knew he really should be getting some more sleep, but he always seemed to be so busy. Hoshi had got him thinking though, about relationships. Other crew members seemed to be having relationships, and if not seemed at least to be getting laid, but not him. He knew he wasn't very good at chat up lines, but there had definitely been more in the way of, well, sex, going on for him on earth. He yawned. It might be all to the good though. What with keeping the weapons in order, keeping the Captain informed, helping Trip out in engineering (the man seemed to be getting himself into sticky situations in the crawl ways more and more frequently), giving self defence lessons (he'd been very pleased at the amount of interest in them) and so on, he doubted he'd have time. 'Or,' he thought as he entered his quarters, 'if opportunity did present itself whether I'd be able to stay awake...'

* * *

Dr. Phlox turned as Malcolm entered the mess. Observing the rest of the crew's reaction was most interesting. All eyes had turned to Malcolm as he entered, and there was almost a collective sigh as he bent down to see what chef had prepared for lunch. Dr. Phlox was aware of Malcolm's effect on the crew, which he found all the more fascinating for the fact that Malcolm seemed utterly unaware of it. Phlox had run numerous tests on the man (he turned up in sick bay often enough for Phlox to run a few extra tests unobtrusively), and could find no obvious reason for his apparent animal magnetism. However, as part of his research he had found that Human and Denubian males would seem to be able to mate quite easily, not to say pleasurably. Somehow, though he found it difficult to bring the subject up with Malcolm.

"Mind if I join you doctor?"

"No, no, sit down. Could I interest you in some alternative cuisine?"

"What are you trying now?"

"Ah. I am glad you asked. I have been trying earth cuisine, but I found I was only exploring current dishes, so I am delving into the past. Yesterday I had some quite delightful honey cakes, the recipe for which I believe is from your Imperial Roman period. Today we have late twentieth century Scottish cuisine; deep-fried haggis, deep-fried white pudding, deep-fried black pudding, deep-fried pizza, and to finish something which I believe is called a 'deep-fried mars bar'." The doctor chuckled. "On a diet like this I marvel at how the human race managed to survive for so long."

Malcolm looked at the plate of deep-fried things doubtfully. "You do know what goes into a black pudding, don't you?"

"No, do tell me."

The doctor was saved from this piece of knowledge by the arrival of Trip.

"Good afternoon. Havin' fun with your lunch doctor?"

"It is educational. And quite enjoyable, yes."

"Sure you'd not be rather having some pasta?'

"Oh, no. I think a little foray into Malcolm's home cuisine might be my next experiment. Chef assures me he has the recipes for both spotted dick and toad in the hole."

Trip choked. Malcolm thumped him on the back, helpfully. "What?"

"A pudding with raisins in and sausages in batter," supplied Malcolm.

"Oh. Great." Trip wished that he had not just heard that. He was having enough difficulty keeping his mind on anything clean when Malcolm was in the room without extra images cropping up. He decided to change the subject. "Have either of you seen T'Pol recently?"

"The captain has given her a few days leave to meditate. It appears that she feels that contact with humans is dulling her logical abilities."

* * *

T'Pol had been in a meditive state for some time now. Another 24 hours and she felt sure that no residual emotional attachment for the tactical officer would remain. Logic could conquer lust. This she was sure of. Even more so in the case of Malcolm. She had analysed her previous emotional lapses and had come to the conclusion that there was no logical reason for her feelings. The man was not particularly attractive, nor particularly witty, nor any of the other reasons that humans in particular seemed to come up with to explain their attraction to others. She appreciated his expertise at his post, but she could say the same for Hoshi. T'Pol closed her eyes and resumed her meditations.

* * *

Trip lounged in the captain's quarters. "What we gonna do?"

"What about?"

"You know what about. Certain officers distracting the rest of us from our duties. Captain."

"I think you mean a certain officer, Trip."

"Whatever. You're captain, deal with it."

"What do you suggest? That I hand him a duty roster also listing who he's sleeping with each night?"

"Nope. The guy looks tired enough already." Trip gave the Captain a meaningful look.

"Ok, ok. I've stopped doing that. He would also be getting more sleep if you weren't finding excuses to call him to cramped and secluded parts of engineering."

"So we're quits then. Still hasn't solved the problem."

"Anything you haven't tried?"

Trip looked thoughtful. "I had this one idea..."

"But..."

"I think it's the getting from my quarters to his naked apart from some strategic pineapple chunks that's putting me off."

The captain started laughing.

"Hey, no fair. A guy could get a complex you know."

"Ok, ok, sorry. I am thinking about this..."

"I bet you are..."

The captain ignored him, "and if I can think of any solution you will be the first to know."

When Trip left later he was thinking that since the captain was going to stop bothering Malcolm and keeping him awake, then surely this was the opportunity Trip needed.

The captain turned to Porthos. "Well, since Trip is going to back off, then I suppose there is no harm in getting him in here more often."

* * *

Travis walked into the Armoury to find Malcolm asleep stood up, propped against one of the weapons lockers. Travis took a moment to contemplate the attractiveness of the sleeping officer, then decided to wake him. He shook Malcolm gently by the shoulder. Malcolm awoke, surprised, his fighting instincts kicked in and he had pinned Travis to the floor before he had woken up properly.

"Oh, I am sorry." He helped Travis up.

"Hey, no bother." Travis definitely didn't have any objections to Malcolm pinning him to the floor. "What's going on to make you fall asleep standing up anyway?"

Malcolm looked surprised. "I was asleep?" Travis nodded. "Oh, the captain and the commander. They seem to think that I can be in three different places at once all times of the day and night. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Everything seems to be functioning well, or at least passably, and suddenly everything needs rechecking eight times and reporting twenty times." Malcolm sighed. "Sorry, not your fault. You shouldn't have been the one on the receiving end of that."

"Have you talked to them about it? I think it's only you that they're picking on." And Travis could be almost certain why...

"Really? I'm not even sure how I could bring it up." Malcolm rubbed his neck.

"Neck hurts?"

"Mnh-hmn. I must have got a crick in it from falling asleep like that."

No way was Travis going to pass up an opportunity like that. "C'm'ere. I'll give you a neck rub."

Malcolm didn't voice any objections, so Travis started to massage his neck.

"Mmmn. That's nice."

Travis' mind was racing. He had to think of a subtle way to get Malcolm from 'receiving back rub in armoury' to 'naked in my quarters holding a jar of peanut butter (crunchy, for preference)'. This was interrupted by the arrival of two crew members. They paused at the door and radiated envy. Travis decided to back off with dignity still intact, and let go of Malcolm's neck.

"You should talk to the captain you know."

Malcolm sighed. "I know. I will."

* * *

"I think you know why I have called you all here."

All the senior crew, with the exception of Malcolm were in the Officers' Mess, looking uncomfortable. They all mumbled like surly teenagers.

"The situation with Lieutenant Reed has to stop. Now before any of you comment, I know that I am as guilty of this as any of you. However, the lieutenant is suffering and matters must be brought to a stop."

"Your conclusion is logical captain, but what is your suggestion as to a method? I am able to control my emotions. The rest of your crew," T'Pol looked pointedly at Trip, who suddenly found the view out of the window exceedingly interesting, "obviously cannot."

"My suggestion is that we set Malcolm up with one of us. I would like to exclude myself, since I think that it is inappropriate for a captain to have a relationship with any crew member. This leaves me in the position of arbiter."

"I also would like to exclude myself. It would be illogical to involve oneself with a human."

"Fine. Then T'Pol and I will act as judges."

Trip looked doubtful. "Judges in what exactly? You goin' to ask us to sing a song or strip to our birthday suits?

"Nothing of the sort. A simple competition," The captain produced a plastic mat and a spinner, "of Twister."

"I trust one of you will explain the rules before we begin." The doctor was intrigued.

* * *

"Left foot red!"

The doctor complied. This though left at least part of his not inconsiderable girth being supported by Hoshi, who made a valiant effort but collapsed. The other three managed to remain as they were as Hoshi wriggled her way out.

"This is certainly one aspect of human mating that I have not been party to before."

"This ain't normal for human matin'." Trip's voice was muffled coming from somewhere near the centre of the heap of people.

Travis grinned. "You never played Twister with someone hot before, Commander?"

"OK, yeah, it can be part of matin'. But generally both of you are playin' Twister together."

"Right hand green!"

Trip moved to comply, breathing deeply as he now no longer had his face buried in the heap of people.

"Left hand yellow!"

Travis winced to get into the correct position, but he was not going to give in.

"Left foot yellow!"

The doctor, however, was not flexible enough and just could not reach. He bowed out. This just left Trip and Travis, looking at each other with narrowed eyes.

The captain grinned. "I don't want either of you getting ideas about cheating."

"Such a marvellous competitive instinct. One of the things that makes humans so fascinating." "And one of the things that keeps them in their primitive state, doctor."

"And if Vulcans were so good at suppressing their emotions you would not be here, sub-commander." The doctor was not one for point-scoring, but T'Pol had just left a far too obvious target.

"C'mon, some of us are gonna get cramp."

"Left hand red!"

This looked like it was going to be a very, very long game.

* * *

Malcolm had just returned to his quarters from the mess hall when the doorbell went. He wasn't expecting anyone so he went to the door. He opened it to find Commander Tucker in the corridor.

"Hiya Malcolm. Mind if I come in?"

"Ummm. No. But why are you in your bathrobe? And can I smell...pineapple?"

Trip just grinned and entered the room.


End file.
